Unanswered Prayers
by maxandkiz
Summary: Somethings wrong with Sammy. Can Dean and John figure out what's wrong with a little help from one of their friends. Sammy- 7 1/2 Dean- 12


Disclaimer: Supernatural and all its characters belong to Kripke and the CW. I own nothing. 

Dean let out a relieved sigh as they roared past the familiar set of farmhouses a few miles outside the city limits of the town of Blue Earth. Finally, after three days of driving and worrying, they were almost there. In less than half an hour they'd be pulling into Pastor Jim's driveway and then the second worst chapter of his short life would be over. The twelve year old cast a glance back at his little brother; his unnervingly quiet little brother. The chatterbox better known as Sammy hadn't said more than a handful of words the past two weeks. And therein lay the problem. Dean's little brother was never quiet; never. He was always talking or singing or humming or making some type of noise. The very first breakfast without Sammy's monologue of every minute detail of his coming school day had been a red flag for Dean. A silent Sammy meant one of two things; either the kid was sick or he was upset about something. Dean had immediately gone into what his dad had deemed his mother hen mode. After checking his little brother with his hand and a thermometer yielded no fever, Dean knew he was dealing with something far worse than illness. Something had obviously upset Sammy which meant that the twelve year old was going to have to suffer through one of the things he hated most; the dreaded chick flick moment. But here they were two weeks later with a still brooding Sam and no answers.

Dean's eyes slid back to the scenery flying past his window. He had tried everything to get Sammy to open up; used every trick in his arsenal. When the kid all but stopped eating and started crying at odds times, he'd redoubled his efforts to make his younger brother spill but the little brat had stayed locked up tighter than Fort Knox. That's when Dean went to their dad with the problem. He wasn't any help though. Their father had just given Dean the standard lines; he's just going through a phase, he'll outgrow it, and the ever popular he'll eat when he gets hungry enough. It wasn't until the boy who faked being well so he wouldn't miss a day of school began crying and begging to stay home that their dad finally realized something was very wrong. The hunter had packed his kids in the car and hit the road then.

They'd stopped at Bobby's first thinking a little time with the older hunter and his dogs would bring the youngster out of his funk. Unfortunately, it didn't make a dent in Sammy's mood. It did however provide them with their very first clue in the form of Sammy reading the Bible and bawling his eyes out. After that it was just a matter of getting in touch with Pastor Jim and then hauling ass to his pastorium in Blue Earth. Dean smiled as they turned into the well-worn driveway of their family friend. "Look Sammy! We're at Pastor Jim's!" the eldest Winchester exclaimed, with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

Sammy remained slumped against his car door.

John frowned at his youngest's lack of reaction. He hoped Jim could get to the bottom of Sammy's problem because it was seriously starting to freak him out. Still and silent were words that had never been associated with his baby and he never wanted them to be. Sammy was a chattering bundle of energy just like his mother and John refused to lose that. Pulling to a stop in front of the pastor's porch, the worried father sent up a prayer to a God he didn't believe in that this worked.

Pastor Jim strode down the steps and over to the parked Chevy. "Evening John, Dean" he greeted as the two senior Winchesters climbed out of the vehicle. "I trust you had a good drive?"

"Hey Jim" John said, shaking the man's hand. "Thanks for letting us come on such short notice."

"Not a problem. You and the boys are welcome anytime. You know that." The pastor replied before turning his attention to the littlest Winchester who had silently slid out of the car. "Good evening, Sammy."

The seven and a half year old slightly nodded his head in response.

Jim smiled. "Why don't you and I take a walk while your father and brother unload the car?" he asked, holding out a hand to the boy.

Seeing his son's eyes cut to him, John gave a nod. "Go ahead bud. Dean and I have got this." He instructed. The surprised expression on Sam's face made him feel all of an inch tall.

Sammy stared slack jawed at his father for a moment before hesitantly taking the pastor's hand and walking away.

Dean worriedly watched his little brother tromp across the yard with the family friend. "Dad, Pastor Jim's gonna fix Sammy, right?" he questioned not taking his eyes off his sibling.

"Of course he is, Dean" John confidently answered hoping he wasn't lying. "Jim will get to the bottom of things and give Sammy one of his famous pep talks. Sammy will be talking your ears off in no time."

"I hope so." Dean whispered as he watched the two figures get smaller and smaller. "I really hope so." 

SPN 

Pastor Jim led Sammy up to the steps of the large country church he pastored. Shivering as a gust of wind blew, he pulled his jacket a little tighter around himself. While it was April, the weather was still rather chilly especially in the evenings. Feeling his small charge tremble, he looked down. "Come on Sammy. Let's go inside the church where it's warm."

Shaking his head, Sammy stopped dead in his tracks. "I, I can't." he miserably replied, staring fearfully at the century's old wooden building.

Jim's brow furrowed. "Okay" he agreed. "We'll sit here on the bottom step instead. Alright?"

Sammy nodded before dropping onto the cement stair. Shivering, he scooted closer to the pastor and snuggled into his side.

Jim threw an arm around the skinny boy's shoulders and pulled him in for a hug. "Your dad told me something's bothering you." he began. "Would you like to tell me about it?"

Sammy started to shake his head but changed his mind and nodded instead. "Can, can I ask you a question?" he asked, keeping his eyes focused on his tennis shoes.

Jim smiled. "Ask me anything you'd like." He responded. "I promise I'll try my best to answer it for you."

Sammy slowly raised his eyes. He glanced frightfully at the building behind them before turning his gaze on the good pastor. "You, you told me that God gives us what we need, right?"

"That's right son." the pastor replied, frowning as his mind began to connect the dots.

Sammy's head dropped. "I knew it." he whispered dejectedly. "He hates me. That's why He won't answer my prayers."

Jim sighed. So that's what this was about. "Sammy, we talked about this, remember? We only ask for what we need, like food or a place to stay. We don't ask for things we want like toys."

Sammy stared at the hunter. The indignant look on his face coupled with the put upon sigh let the man know exactly what the boy thought of his scolding. "I'm not some little kid. I know better than that." He snapped. Then his face crumbled. "I asked for something I need; something my whole family needs! And He didn't answer! He hates me! What did I do to make Him hate me PJ? Did I do something bad?"

Pastor Jim hugged the boy. "You haven't done anything bad, Sammy. And God doesn't hate you. I can promise you that." He assured the boy.

"Then why didn't he answer?" Sammy cried as the first tears made their way down his cheeks.

"I don't know son." Jim honestly told him. "What was it you asked for?"

"Mmmmmy mmmmomm" Sammy stammered. "I need her. We all need her. If we had mom, daddy wouldn't be so angry all the time. And, and he'd find a job close to home so he could be home with her. And, Dean would have somebody to take care of him instead of him taking care of me and daddy. And I'd have a mommy to hold me and hug me and love me like all my friends mommies do."

"Oh Sammy" Jim muttered, pulling the sobbing boy into his lap. Rocking back and forth, he enveloped the distraught youngster in a bear hug before beginning his explanation. "God can't send people back from Heaven son."

"But I need her!" Sammy wailed.

"I know Sammy. I know." Pastor Jim softly and sympathetically voiced. "And I'm so sorry she isn't here for you. I know she'd be here if she could. But she can't. When a person dies and goes to Heaven, that is where they have to stay." Jim fell silent allowing the littlest Winchester time to grieve for his mother. Ignoring the chill and the wind, he sat on the freezing step rocking and humming a soothing lullaby for the hurting boy. It wasn't until Sammy's crying tapered off that the pastor spoke again. "Your mother may be gone, Sammy but she's still with you. She'll always be with you right here." He said, placing a hand over the seven and a half year old's heart. "All you have to do is close your eyes and think about her."

"But, but I don't re-remember her." Sammy confessed as he swiped the back of his hand over his eyes.

"True" Jim replied. "But you can still imagine her. You've seen her in pictures I'm sure. Think of the way she looked in those pictures and then picture your mother doing the things your dad and Dean told you stories about."

Sammy's eyes closed and his head dropped. "I don't know what mom looked like. Daddy has a picture of her in his wallet but he won't let me see it." he tearfully admitted. "And they won't tell me anything about her either. Daddy and Dean always get mad and yell at me when I ask."

Jim had to bite back the curse that came to mind at that revelation. Yelling would do nothing but frightened the boy he was attempting to comfort. "Sammy, I am so sorry son. I had no idea." He whispered instead. "I'll have a talk with your father; see if I can't get him to…"

"Noooo! He'll get mad at *yawn* at me!" Sammy protested, turning his kicked puppy look on the pastor.

"He won't get mad, Sammy. I can promise you that." Jim guaranteed mentally adding, 'even if I have to strangle the old fool.' Hearing the youngster let out a jaw popping yawn, he smiled. "Come on son. Let's head back to the house. It's past time for little boys to be in bed."

Reaching up, Sammy wrapped his arms around the hunter's neck. "K" he mumbled before dropping his head on Jim's shoulder.

Chuckling, Jim carefully got to his feet and started the trek back to his house. As he walked he made small talk with the worn out boy in his arms to keep him awake enough to make his own way upstairs to the bedroom he always shared with his brother. The pastor had a bigger and more stubborn fish to fry.

After a short, freezing walk, Jim made it to his house. He hurried up the steps of the front porch, opened the door, and set Sammy on his feet. "Go on upstairs Sammy. Your bed's all made up and I laid out a clean pair of pajamas for you." he instructed, patting the boy on the back. "Oh, and I found your friend Snuffy when I was cleaning up. He's waiting on your bed for you." The look that crossed Sammy's face made the pastor frown. "What is it, Sammy?"

Sammy peered at the closed kitchen door for a moment before gazing up at his surrogate uncle. "D-d-daddy says I'm *yawn* too old to sleep with st-stuffed animals." He morosely disclosed. "He'll take Snuffy away if he *yawn* sees him."

"He most certainly will not." Jim countered. "This is my house which means your father has to abide by my wishes."

"Really?" Sammy skeptically questioned, giving the pastor a look that said he clearly didn't believe it.

"Absolutely" Jim confidently answered with a grin.

"O *yawn* kay" Sammy quietly uttered although his face still showed his disbelief. "Night PJ"

"Good night Sammy" Jim said. He waited for the boy to start up the stairs before turning and marching to the kitchen. Slamming the saloon style doors open, he stormed into the room. "I could throttle the both of you." he growled, crossing his arms angrily.

Dean craned his neck trying to see around the pastor. He frowned when he didn't see his little brother. "Umm PJ where's Sammy?" he worriedly questioned.

"Upstairs" Jim ground out.

Dean quickly jumped out. "Can the throttling wait till morning?" he asked. "Cause I need to check on Sammy. He doesn't sleep well when I'm not in the room."

The no died on Pastor Jim's tongue as he took in the exhaustion etched into the boy's face along with the worry clear in his eyes. "Go ahead Dean." He agreed. "No teasing him about sleeping with Snuffy though. The boy's been through enough today without you picking on him."

"Snuffy?" John echoed. His mouth thinned and his expression turned thunderous. "That stuffed hedgehog you bought him! I thought I'd dealt with them all when I got rid of that mangy dog of his."

A gasp drew the hunters' attention to the door where a shocked Sammy was standing. "You, you…but you said I must have lost him!" Sammy cried as tears started streaming down his face once more. "But I, I didn't! You…I hate you!" Turning on his heel, Sammy dashed out of the room.

"I've got him." Dean called over his shoulder as he raced after his brother.

"I don't believe you. I just don't believe you." Jim furiously said. "How could you toss out something that meant so much to that boy!"

John was on his feet in an instant. "Sammy's almost eight! He's too old for that crap! He doesn't need it!" he hollered.

"Yes he does! That stuffed dog is one of the few constants in his life. It makes him feel safe and that's something he desperately needs." Jim countered.

"He doesn't need some stupid toy to feel safe. He has Dean and I for that." John retorted before turning even angrier. "Is that what his little silent routine was about? Some stupid toy!?"

Pastor Jim deflated. Dropping onto a chair, he looked up at his old friend. "No" he quietly replied. "Sammy was upset because he had been praying for God to send his mom back and it hadn't happened. He thought if she came back you wouldn't be so angry and that he and Dean would have someone to take care of and love them."

John had to grab the back of a chair to keep from falling. "M-Mary? He wanted Mary?" he stammered.

"Yes" Jim answered, his expression softening in the face of his friend's pain. "I explained to him that she couldn't come back but that she would always be with him in his heart. And that anytime he needed her he could just close his eyes and think about her." Jim's expression hardened once more. "I didn't know you hadn't bothered to so much as show the boy a picture of his mother."

"Jim" John warned. "Don't…"

"Don't what?" the pastor broke in. "Sammy just spent the last two weeks upset about a mother he can't remember and thanks to his father and brother, knows nothing about! He deserves better than that! That boy deserves to know about his mother!"

John shot out of his chair and strode over to the pastor. "How dare you." John ground out, glaring down at the other hunter. "How dare you tell me how to raise my boys!"

"Somebody needs to!" Jim exclaimed.

John's face went stone cold. "Nobody tells me how to deal with my boys." He growled, pinning his friend with a look he usually reserved for the creatures he hunted. "We're leaving." And with that he spun around and stomped out of the room.

"John wait!" Jim called after the retreating figure.

The senior Winchester ignored the pastor's calls. Enraged by the man's accusations, he stormed up the stairs and down the hall to his sons' room. "Dean! Sammy! We leave in five!" he yelled, banging on the door. Hearing the required yes sir, he strode on down to the guest room. John marched around the bedroom, yanking up his things and forcefully stuffing them in his duffle bag. It took him less than three minutes to pack and use the facilities. After scanning the room to ensure he hadn't missed anything, the furious father trudged back to the boys' room. Making it to the partially opened door, he reached for the doorknob. Dean's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Whatcha doing Sammy?" Dean curiously inquired as he watched his little brother shove one treasure after another into the closet. "Why are you putting all your good stuff in there?"

"So daddy won't get rid of it." Sammy answered before tucking his favorite action figure in his favorite shirt and carefully placing them on top of the heap. He then crawled into the closet, pulled his knees to his chest, and wrapped his arms around them.

"Sammy, dad's not going to get rid of your stuff." Dean assured his little brother. "Now come out of there and get ready to go. Dad will be back any second."

Sammy shook his head.

"Come on Sammy. He won't throw anything else out. Honest. I won't let him." Dean explained. "Just come out of the closet, okay?"

Another shake of the head was his only answer.

Dean sighed. "Come on Squirt. What are you doing in the closet, anyway?"

Sammy sniffled. "Dean, what's gonna happen to me when daddy thinks he doesn't need me anymore? Is he gonna get rid of me, too like he did Spot?"

"No, I won't." John said as he stepped inside the room. He squatted down in front of the closet to be at eye level with his youngest. "I'm never going to not need you or get rid of you because I love you buddy."

"But I love S-Spot and you got rid of him." Sam reminded.

"Yes, I did." John admitted, tamping down the guilt the tears in his baby boy's eyes caused. "But I did that because you're a big boy now. You don't need something to sleep with."

Sam cocked his head to one side and peered curiously at his father. "Then how come you didn't throw away Dean's knife? He's older than me and he still sleeps with it." he so helpfully pointed out.

John sighed. He didn't know why he'd thought this would be easy. Nothing ever was with Sam. "I didn't get rid of Dean's knife because he has it for protection. It keeps you guys safe."

"Spot keeps me safe." Sammy countered. "He keeps the clowns away."

John sent a glare at a snickering Dean before turning his attention back to his younger son. The woebegone expression on Sammy's face had him rethinking his stance on stuffed animals. Maybe Jim had been right. "Buddy, daddy's sorry okay?" he apologized. "I'll take you out to get a new one tomorrow, alright?"

Sammy shook his head. "I don't want a different one. I want Spot." He cried, throwing himself into his big brother's arms and burying his face in the crook of Dean's neck. "Need Spot"

Dean gazed up at his dad with eyes far too old for a child of twelve. "It's okay dad. I'll talk to him." he assured his father. "Just give me a few minutes and then we'll be ready to go."

John glanced from his exhausted eldest to his emotionally spent youngest and back before shaking his head. "We'll get it straightened out in the morning. You and Sammy go to bed and try to get some sleep, alright?"

"Yes sir" Dean automatically responded. He watched wide eyed as their dad stood and walked out of the room. He'd never known their dad to change his mind especially when he was angry. He was glad the man had though. Sammy was in no shape to be going anywhere but bed. Speaking of which; "Come on Sammy. Let's get Snuffy and go to sleep." Picking up the stuffed animal, Dean handed it to his little brother and then carried him over to the bed. He gently set his precious cargo down on the bed and slid in beside him. "Go to sleep Sammy. Snuffy and I are right here." he whispered. Closing his own eyes, Dean listened to his sibling's breathing even out in sleep before drifting off to dreamland himself. 

SPN 

"Bedtime boys" Jim announced the next evening. "Go on up and brush your teeth and change. I'll come tuck you in shortly."

"Okay" Sammy replied. Grabbing his toys, he bounded out of the room.

Dean slowly got up and shuffled over to the pastor. "PJ, have you heard from dad yet?" he quietly asked.

"Not yet son" Jim honestly said. "But I'm sure he'll call soon."

"I don't know. This isn't like him. He always tells me when he's going to leave for a hunt." Dean told him.

Pastor Jim placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "He'll be back Dean. He's just dealing with a lot right now."

"I know." Dean whispered, wiping at his eyes. "I, uhhh, I better go make sure Sammy remembers to do everything he's supposed to. Night Pastor Jim."

"Good night Dean" Jim called back. "And don't worry. Your dad will come back soon." 

SPN 

Dean climbed into bed beside his little brother and slid under the covers. Turning onto his side, he found himself face to face with the Sammy Winchester infamous puppy dog eyes.

"Dean, will you tell me a story?" Sammy hopefully asked.

"Did I hear the word story?" John questioned as he stepped into the room.

"Dad! You're back!" Dean shouted, sitting straight up in bed.

"Where were you?" Sammy inquired. "We woke up and you were gone."

"Sorry about that kiddo" John apologized, walking up to the bed. "I had to leave really early so I could go get this." He held up a well-worn black and white spotted dog.

"Spot!" Sammy hollered, taking the treasured toy from his father. "You found him!"

"Yes I did and I found something else too." John informed his sons. He sat down on the edge of the bed, toed off his shoes, and then swung his legs up. The young father maneuvered his way to the middle of the full sized bed. Pulling his sons closer, he settled them on either side before reaching into his shirt pocket and pulling out a handful of old photos. He handed the top picture to his youngest. "That's us Sammy. See that's Dean and me and your m-mom and that little baby she's holding is you." he explained.

"That's mom." Sammy whispered, holding the photo reverently. "She's pretty."

"Yes she was." John agreed. "She was always smiling. And she loved reading. She used to read to you boys every night. She'd settle you two in her lap in that old wooden rocking chair in your nursery and read Pat the Bunny and Curious George and…"

Pastor Jim peered around the open door of the bedroom. Seeing all three Winchesters snuggled up together asleep, he smiled. It appeared Sammy's prayers had been answered after all.


End file.
